


Well, that was unexpected

by asyndese



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (2011) RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Gratuitous porn, Hand Jobs, If there is a plot to this nobody told me, Just smut, M/M, Masturbation, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asyndese/pseuds/asyndese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working out has never really held much of a thrill for him. All those sweaty people, trapped in a climated, sterile cell. But then there's Chris and when Tom joins him in the communal showers, well, going to the gym doesn't seem quite as bothersome in the light of all that soapy golden skin just an arm's length away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well, that was unexpected

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Вот это неожиданность!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/662558) by [Amorph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorph/pseuds/Amorph)



They're in the gym, working out. Well, Chris is. Tom's just sitting nearby, eating one of those fitness bars that taste like cardboard while he watches his co-star stem barbells twice his body weight. It's quite an enjoyable view, too, the way Chris' biceps stretches with every upward push which puts his body unwittingly on display. He is so absorbed in his training, that he does not notice Tom ogling him like a horny teenager. But it's hard not to when he's wearing one of those terrible (wonderful) shirts that compliment his naked shoulders and with the sweat making the fabric cling his stomach like a sensual lover, the tight flex of every muscle becomes visible whenever Chris pushes himself out of his crouch. It looks really professional, too, all deep breathing and measured lifts and Chris is just massive. He could easily compete for the title of Mr Universe and if Tom had any say in it, he'd win.  
  
"Shouldn't you be running," Chris gasps out with one glance at Tom lounging on the weight bench across from him. 

"I did."  
  
"Shouldn't you be _still_ running?" The sun seems to rise in his face, even through the high colour of exertion.  
  
"I'm a god not a hamster," Tom says conversationally and slides his long, naked legs off the bench to stretch them in his running shorts. "You done?"  
  
"Five more," Chris huffs through the last few lifts before he sets down the barbell with surprisingly little noise to rub his upper arms, large hands smoothing over even larger muscles to work out the stress. Tom isn't sure what that bump on his shoulder is even called to begin with, but his body is without a doubt worthy of the god of Thunder. Whenever Tom works out, all he manages is a lean, tight look fitting for Loki but not Thor.  
  
"Take your time," Tom says good-naturally, handing Chris a towel so he can dry his face.  
  
"Thanks," he muffles into the fabric, then wipes his neck. "I'm gonna hit the showers and then lunch. You'll join me?", Chris asks as he bends down to pick up his key card for his locker and water bottle. From beneath blonde eyeleashes, he casts him a look that Tom has difficulty to decipher.  
  
"Let me just fetch my stuff," Tom indicates toward where the treadmills are all lined up in front of big tv screens on the other side of the gym and Chris nods.  
  
"Okay. I'm gonna go ahead. I reek like a gorilla's arm-pit."  
  
"Now that you mention it." But Chris just shakes his head and they part ways.  
  
By the time Tom reaches the locker room, Chris has already hit the showers. He hastily undresses, pulling at his clothes impatiently and he struggles longer than is absolutely necessary. It's not because of nerves, though. Of course not. He grabs a clean towel provided by the gym from the rack and skids into the common shower area, ignoring the low, tingling heat simmering in the pit of his stomach upon coming into view of Chris fucking Hemsworth's naked back side.  
  
"Took you long enough," Chris says when he notices movement by the door, turning a grinning, soapy face at him and Tom steps under the opposite shower head.  
  
"So impatient to show off?" he asks, stealing Chris' shampoo off the soap dish.The water has just the right temperature and he sighs, feeling the grime and sweat wash away and down the drain.  
  
"Always."  
  
They keep their banter light and easy with Chris complaining about impending muscle ache and Tom moaning about his own weight loss for the role. But they are not alone and their conversation dies down after a while. With the silence stretching awkward and unfamiliar between them, Tom starts fidgeting with the tap's temperature regulation, warm water pouring down his head and plastering the curls against his temples.  
  
He keeps eyes firmly closed, determined not to look at Chris or the dark, secret space between his legs by accident. He'd be mortified if his co-actor caught him staring. When the other men in the shower area finally leave, Tom's resolve crumbles and with his heart thudding loudly against his ribcage he sneaks a glance at Chris. The Australian has tipped his head back towards the jet of water, and it cascades down his chin and powerful throat in rivulets. He seems completely at ease, almost serene.  
  
Tom's hoped for such a chance, naturally, who wouldn't? To be alone and naked, but the reality of it is something else entirely and he quickly averts his eyes again. Not only is Chris chiseled and perfect and wet, he is also _touching_ himself, running broad hands over the ripped, taut expanse of his stomach. Tom isn't sure he can properly handle the sight.  
  
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he berates himself and almost jumps when that same warm hand brushes against his naked shoulder.  
  
"Want me to wash your back, Tom?" Chris offers unprompted, voice slightly off but jovial enough that Tom doesn't think twice. He just chuckles because, god, it couldn't possibly sound any more like a come-on and that's just terrible for Tom to assume, isn't it? He should get his brain out of the gutters but it does not stop him from accepting the offer. He's only a man, too and the rare opportunity to have Chris' hands on his body is just too good to pass up.  
  
"Thank you. That'd be-- yeah, _actually_. I can never reach that one place," he says, feeling the calloused palm move between his shoulder blades like a branding iron.  
  
"Where?" Chris runs a thumb along his spine, the water making everything smooth and slick. "Here?"  
  
He glances at Chris to gauge his intentions. But his expression is unreadable, not exactly open, long hair sticking to the corner of his mouth, eyes dark and Tom has to clear his throat.  
  
"No, more to the right. Lower." He can feel Chris taking a step closer, his body heat washing over him in a wave and Tom is thankful for the colder temperature of the water. He likes to think it helps with keeping down the flush spreading over his face and chest.  
  
"Oh _yeah_ ," Chris almost-growls into his ear. "I can never reach that particular spot, either. Haha," he laughs low and deep and reaches past Tom's arm for the soap dish. His wrists are amazingly thick and Tom watches him squeeze out some of the shower gel into his broad palm.  
  
"Watch and learn. I bet you've never had a rub down like that."  
  
"I'll be impressed later," Tom mocks but his heart isn't in. It is, in fact, trying to jump out of his throat when Chris puts his hands on him again in a serious attempt to show him just how good he is with massages. The thumbs dig into the meat of his shoulders pleasantly, rubbing up his neck and into his hair before his palms glide down, just grazing Tom's side, mapping out his skin. His hands feel incrediby large on him and and Tom lets his head hang between his arms, fingers curling against the tiles. He could get lost in this, letting Chris gently soap him up as he is and he moves into each caress with longing.  
  
"What about that part?" Chris asks, breath ghosting across Tom's cheek, and his hands smooth down to the small of his back, fingers brushing the diffuse line where back turns to buttocks. He's close enough for Tom to feel the presence of his crotch less than a hand width from the back of his thighs and he can't help but shiver, skin coming alive with goosebumps.  
  
"Can reach it just fine," Tom finds his voice eventually but it sounds throaty, strained and there's blood pounding in his ears and his cock becomes heavy with the first terrible signs of arousal. Shit.  
  
"Are you sure?" And then Chris' fingers slided low, just skimming over his crack, squeezing the globes of his ass in a hungry, unyielding grip that makes him stand up on the tips of his toes. There's an undignified noise leaving his mouth, a half-choked moan and he has to use the wall for support, unsure whether he is allowed to move into the touch or not.  
  
"You like that?" Chris hisses, mouthing at the back of his neck and yeah, okay, that had been a come-on, alright. No mistake there, not when Chris slides his hand lower still, towards his heavy balls. It makes things easier in a way, no fear of being found out or rejected. Chris has just taken over responsibility and it's okay if he really does moan now, right? The trust they've built up over _Thor_ and the last weeks of filming _The Avengers_ won't break just because of this. It's just one man helping out another, no big deal.  
  
He gasps out "Maybe." when Chris sneaks an arm around his middle, holding him steady, fingers splayed against his lower stomach. Just the feel of that, of his hands slick with soap, tugs at Tom's insides in thick want, makes his legs tremble with it and his cock bob with the pounding of blood.  
  
"Just maybe? Guess I'll have to try harder." Oh, he likes that arrogance, so atypical for the good-natured Australian but maybe that's his inner Thor showing. He likes the idea of that commanding presence, even more when he presses himself against Tom's buttocks. Chris feels large and thick when he leans in fully, slick chest against back, harsh breath in Tom's ear. His heart skips a beat and another when the hand that's holding him steady sneaks down to rub along his upper thigh, just shy of his obvious arousal.  
  
"What if someone comes in?" He remembers belatedly and there's dread pooling in his stomach where there had been hot bliss beforehand.  
  
"They'll turn around immediately, of course," Chris reassures, cupping his balls and tugging. Tom gives a violent jerk at that and his hand flies behind him to grab at Chris' hair, pulling his face closer to his own, anchoring himself. "They'll be too embarrassed."  
  
"You and your sunny, _ah_ , outlook." His voice breaks when Chris licks off the water from his jaw.  
  
"I'll be quick." Chris sounds still far too composed for his liking, but he can't complain when his fingers _finally!_ circle the base of his cock and he bucks into the touch, grunting, perhaps a little too loudly.  
  
"Shhh," Chris murmurs into his ear, gentling his touch and pushing two fingers of his free hand between his lips, making him suck the water off them. They taste slightly metallic, a bit like soap but overall clean and Tom scratches his teeth along the blunt digits, enjoying the full body shiver that rattles Chris' body behind him; enjoys even more the ragged breath ghosting along his shoulder as he tongues the tender skin between the knuckles.  
  
"You're such a pervert, Hiddleston," Chris rasps and fists Tom's cock in earnest, intend on bringing him off. The water helps, if only a little. It's still a rough sort of friction, the soap all but washed away and Chris' palm is a bed of callouses, pulling at the foreskin with every downward stroke but it's good, it's fucking fantastic and he's moaning around the fingers in his mouth, clutching Chris' strong hips to keep himself upright. He can feel the powerful thighs under his hand trembling with his co-star's effort not to rut against his backside and his stomach muscles clench with the thought of Chris grinding him into the wall.  
  
"Undressing me with your eyes all the time." Tom's stomach drops and not only with Chris' excellent observation. The man is layering his shoulder with slow kisses, all warm tongue before he pulls his fingers out of Tom's mouth, shoving him every which way until he's got a fuzzy thigh forced between his legs from behind and both his hand on Tom's private parts.  
  
"That's it," Chris groans against the back of his ear and Tom holds onto the wall again, to the soap dish, anything so he won't slip. He's not sure if he can stand up much longer, not with Chris' thigh rubbing against his balls just so, his hands jerking him off in determined strokes, running his thumb over the head every time Tom's breath hitches. The pressure is overwhelming and he can feel his pulse in his cock, hard and fast.  
  
"How close?" Chris asks, breathless.  
  
"Yeah," it's all Tom can manage, but it's telling enough and Chris pushes him around, up against the wall so they're face to face, lips wide open, tongue pushed deep into his mouth. His beard is rough and wonderful, chafing over the skin of his chin and he can't help but bite into Chris' lower lip, into the soft place beneath. Chris doesn't seem to mind, merely nudges his nose so he'll lift his head for another bruising kiss that steals his breath away.  
  
Chris tastes good, warm and wet and soft and Tom groans into his mouth when Chris rubs his pectorals with his knuckles, thumbing at his nipples. He readily spreads his leg for the man to step between, enjoying the intimate press of Chris' erection against the seam of his leg. Grabbing at his hips, Chris aligns their cocks and _oh hell_ \--  
  
"Fuck," Chris grunts as he wraps his large, large fist around them both, pumping and staring down at where they're touching and Tom follows his gaze. Chris' cock really is as big as the rest of him, a wonderful rosy color and he thinks he'll have to explore that body in full one day; take his time to follow each dip between his abs with his tongue, see what makes Chris moan and pliable under his hands. But for now this desperate fumble would have to suffice and he yanks Chris' hair so his eyes snap back up to Tom's face. His pupils are fully blown, water glistening in his brows and lashes and beard and he's beautiful like that, all flushed and completely drenched. He's a passionate mess and Tom has never been more in love with him.  
  
He's aching with the thought and there is an answering heaviness in his groin when Chris curls his hand around his thigh and leans in to drag his tongue along his open lips. It makes Tom hyper-aware of the pressure building at the base of his spine, toes curling and then Chris tugs at both their cocks a little too roughly and he's coming with a choked moan, hips snapping up and sticky mess soiling Chris' hand and stomach in long spurts.  
  
"Wow," Chris says in amazement, squeezing and stroking them both through Tom's orgasm until there's nothing left in Tom but shivers and pants. "You're all flushed."  
  
He lays one hand against Tom's neck fondly, smoothing a thumb over his burning cheek while he holds onto Chris' massive biceps, just breathes with their foreheads pressed together. He can still feel his heart beat trying to break his ribcage, shaken up from his release, all dizzy and giddy.  
  
"Good?" Chris asks into the intimate space between their faces and Tom nods, eyes still closed. "You're hot stuff, Hiddleston."  
  
"Bless you for saying that," he croaks and opens his eyes. Chris' face is immensely close, larger than life and he leans in for a quick kiss, snaking one hand down to where Chris is still hard and eager. He weighs his cock in his palm, follows the length of it with his fingertips pressed against the underside and the man's expression goes tight, nostrils flaring.  
  
"Would you --"  
  
" _Yes_ ," he says, glances only once at the entry to the shower area and wraps his long, nimble fingers around his girth. Chris' hand settles over his own, setting a hard, quick rhythm. It doesn't take long and Chris is panting into his neck, biting at the skin hungrily, one fist slammed against the tiles, all restless energy. He's straining into his strokes, hips following each touch and Tom likes that. Likes the power he has to render the man agreeable with such simple touches.  
  
When he leans in to trace the outline of Chris' ear with his tongue, holding him fast by his neck, the Australian gives a groan which sounds suspiciously like "Fuck, gonna-" and Tom can't help but watch as he unravels. Body going tight, breath stuttering and his cock just gives the smallest of warnings, a slight twitch, sinews working in his lower stomach before jets of come pulse hotly over Tom's fingers. He gentles him through it with a small touches to his groin, smoothing over the trembling muscles in his inner thighs.  
  
Chris is a heavy weight against him, but he doesn't mind, just indulges in the closeness, holding the Austrailian in a weak embrace while the water rushes down their bodies, clearing away the traces of their indecent behavior.  
  
"You have to admit," Chris says into his hair after a while, voice a bit rough but otherwise steady. "That was one hell of a back rub."  
  
"I am afraid I'll need another sample to make a proper judgement." Chris pushes himself off of him, eyes searching his face and Tom holds his breath, hoping against hope that this was not a one-time occurrence - because, really, he's never come this hard from a mere hand job before.  
  
"I think this can be arranged," Chris says slowly. "For statistical purposes." And Tom is so relieved he's beaming, ridiculously happy and kisses Chris straight on the mouth, long fingers framing his handsome face. Just when Chris is in the act of leaning in, one arm wrapped around Tom's waist possessively, they hear the door to the shower area open. They are in different corners in an instant, guilt written all over their faces in red colors.  
  
Tom busies himself with recapping the shower gel no less than three times, avoiding eye contact and hoping the new-comer won't comment on their flushed states.  
  
"Let's get out of here," Chris says non-chalantly and turns off the water just as a sweating, bald man puts his utensils on a soap dish, eying them suspiciously. "I'm starving."  
  
"Chicken sandwich?" Tom asks hopefully, looking up. Chris is already at the small alcove where he's stored his key card and shower sandals, rubbing his hair dry before he wraps the towel around his hips. The few drops running down the middle of his stomach to the sparse blonde hair just vanishing under the fabric are very distracting and it's a herculean act to force his gaze up to Chris' face again.  
  
"You betcha," Chris grins, tossing Tom his own towel. "I'll pay."  
  
Seems he'll be going to the gym more often after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the kinkmeme. Prompt **[here](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/8802.html?thread=19429218#t19429218)** : There is a serious dearth of RPS in this fandom. Please write me something smutty with these two. I will take anything.
> 
> I sometimes wrote "Thor" instead of "Chris", haha %D


End file.
